


So Good, So Good...

by Athena_Muldrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, Erotic Hypnosis, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hypnotism, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I can't believe I POSTED this, I just need this off my guilty conscience that's literally all, Look I have no clue what I'm doing, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Not my first fanfiction but definitely my first smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athena_Muldrow/pseuds/Athena_Muldrow
Summary: Castiel kept on smiling. “Well, here’s the thing, Dean: I’m a bit busy tonight, but I know how much you want this. So, I’ve come up with a compromise.” He reached a hand to the table behind him, retrieving his copy of whatever dusty, leather-bound tome of unfathomable magic and whatever-the-fuck-else he was currently translating for the Men of Letters database. “I’m going to finish this text and catch up on my work, and you are going to go ahead and put yourself into a trance by the time I come into the bedroom.”That was… different. Definitely different.Dean couldn’t help the confused frown on his face. “You want me to put myself under hypnosis?”“Yes. I’ve put you under a million times by now, surely you can figure out how to do it yourself just this once?” Castiel looked like the cat with the cream, all smug and smoldering and sexy and oh god how is he always so fucking hot?He swallowed again and licked his lips. “I mean, yeah, but you know I’ve never really done, well, self-hypnosis before.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	So Good, So Good...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, listen... you hear that? It's the sound of nobody asking for this to be made.
> 
> Here's the absolutely true story about how this story was written: About a week ago I had an exam to study for, but sometime during my study time I just straight up blacked out and came to about 3 hours later. With 6000 words of smut written down. I haven't written fanfiction in nearly seven years, much less smut. Much less "erotic hypnosis," what the fuck?
> 
> So, being that I had what can only be described as a mental break that I have no memory of occurring, you may think that the most logical course of action would be to call my doctor and figure out why I wrote a shitty Supernatural smut fanfic. But I'm from the United States, I can't afford to see a doctor! So naturally I finished writing, edited, and am now posting this awful fucking monstrosity for the world to suffer with me. I need this off my guilty conscience, and this is the only way.
> 
> If the weird religious guy that comes to our campus and screams about how we should read the Bible is to be believed, I am going to Hell.
> 
> A few disclaimers: I am not at all experienced in hypnosis (erotic or otherwise), nor am I at all experienced with sex. I'm asexual, I have no fucking clue what I'm doing, like, ever. Regardless, to whomever finds this story in the wild: Good luck and I hope you get SOMETHING out of it.

It started with the words that he both loved and hated the most: “I want to try something a little different today, Dean.”

 _Oh god_. He already felt himself shiver at the words. Castiel had a superpower, he was sure of it (beyond the normal angel mojo, that is). There was no way someone should be able to say something like that and be able to make Dean want to simultaneously bite his lip in excitement and roll his eyes in annoyance. Castiel could come up with some of the most insane tortures known to man, but it would give him a power trip _every_ time it worked the way he wanted it to. Castiel could float for weeks on the high he got from watching Dean fall apart under his control.

Not that Dean was complaining _too_ much. He got something out of it too. But it was the principle of the thing. “Oh?” He finally hummed in response.

Castiel gave a tiny smile—a quirk of the lips, really—that bordered on teasing. _Oh, it was one of_ those _kinds of plans,_ Dean thought to himself. He cocked an eyebrow and him and sat up a bit taller, tossing an arm over the library chair he was sat in to get a better look at his partner. “What are you thinking, angel cake?”

Castiel’s smile softened into a smug look (that over-confident bastard). “See, every time we play together like this, I’m the one that drops you into trance, correct? I’m the one that talks you through how nice it feels for your arms to grow too heavy for your shoulders. Or how your mind starts to feel a nice, warm fuzz start to settle over your thoughts. Or how your eyes can’t quite seem to stay focused on my face, or the spot on the wall, or the spirals I like to show you…”

His voice stayed perfectly casual, instead of dropping in the usual deep, velvety tone that he often adopted for his inductions. But that didn’t mean his words had no effect; Dean felt his muscles loosen up a bit, his breathing slow and steady, his jaw relax and part open slightly. He wasn’t falling into hypnosis, but the memories of all the other times he _did_ seemed to echo and pulse through his mind. He remembered each and every time he was dropped into trance, from the very first time to the most recent one from last week (he almost let his eyes roll at that one, this time not out of annoyance).

He swallowed and returned to reality, giving Castiel a somewhat less-than-casual nod. “Sure, that’s how we always do it.”

Castiel kept on smiling. “Well, here’s the thing, Dean: I’m a bit busy tonight, but I know how much you want this. So, I’ve come up with a compromise.” He reached a hand to the table behind him, retrieving his copy of whatever dusty, leather-bound tome of unfathomable magic and whatever-the-fuck-else he was currently translating for the Men of Letters database. “I’m going to finish this text and catch up on my work, and you are going to go ahead and put yourself into a trance by the time I come into the bedroom.”

That was… different. Definitely different.

Dean couldn’t help the confused frown on his face. “You want me to put myself under hypnosis?”

“Yes. I’ve put you under a million times by now, surely you can figure out how to do it yourself just this once?” Castiel looked like the cat with the cream, all smug and smoldering and sexy and _oh god how is he always so fucking hot?_

He swallowed again and licked his lips. “I mean, yeah, but you know I’ve never really done, well, self-hypnosis before.”

That part was true—Dean had never had the patience to practice self-hypnosis. Every blog and testimonial he had read about hypnosis had said it felt no different than meditating, but meditation was not something he had ever gotten the hang of on his own. He wasn’t one to sit around and do practically nothing (even though that was exactly the point), and he had only ever found rare success with guided audio files off of YouTube. But when Castiel offhandedly mentioned one day that he was curious and wanted to give hypnosis a try, Dean just shrugged and said _why not?_ Best-case scenario, he would go under and they would have some fun poking around in his brain. Worst-case scenario, Dean would lay on a bed with his eyes closed for about an hour while Castiel rambled for a bit.

Turned out Dean was an overachiever. And they both underestimated what the best-case scenario could actually lead to.

Dean was… a _really_ good hypnotic subject.

But still, Dean had only ever been able to go into hypnosis with Castiel at the helm. And even then, he had never felt the inclination to try doing it by himself—why would he when he had way more fun doing it when Castiel was there?

Castiel shrugged. “You didn’t try self-hypnosis before we started playing together, but I think at this point you have all the experience and tools to get yourself at least into a light trance.”

“What brought this idea up, anyway?” Dean asked. “I don’t think you’re actually that concerned about finishing that book right now, are you?”

“I am actually somewhat behind in translating, that part’s true—" Dean snorted, causing Castiel to glower a little. “—but mostly because I read this post online about this type of induction. The hypnotist would ask the subject to put themselves into trance, leave the room, and then come back after a few minutes to see that they did as they asked.” Castiel’s lips quirked as he explained it. “I thought it was interesting.”

“I… okay, that’s kind of a cool idea,” Dean conceded. “And you’re gonna use me as your test subject?”

“You have to admit it’s worth a try.”

Oh, it definitely was. But Dean wasn’t going to admit to it that easily. “Another sexy adventure to try, huh? Are we the kink-Mythbusters now? Is that what we’re doing?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel dryly. “That’s exactly the angle I’m going for.”

“Then I’m Jamie Hyneman, because I’m the better looking one.”

“I assume that makes me Adam, who Sam has informed me is the funnier of the two.”

“Funny-looking!”

“Very mature, Dean.”

Dean laughed. Castiel smiled back before leaning forward in his seat again. “So, what do you think? Would you like to give it a try?”

Dean pursed his lips, pretending to think for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, why not? How do you want to go about it?”

* * *

And that’s how Dean found himself sitting naked on their bed.

Okay, technically he didn’t _have_ to be naked, but the first step of getting hypnotized was to get comfortable, and what could be more comfortable than his birthday suit? That’s what he told himself, at least. He sat leaning up against the pillows near the headboard on top of the blankets, ankles crossed and hands on his lap, resolutely _not_ touching his dick despite how much he wanted to go ahead and get primed. No, right now wasn’t about him getting all hot and bothered (but he wasn’t opposed to it). This was an experiment first, possibly sexy-foray into bone-town second. Dean wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the task at hand if he became overexcited. Although there was certainly _something_ at hand that was starting to become excited…

Dean slapped his cheeks and shook his head to clear the thoughts out. “Alright, focus.”

Where does he begin? Despite his initial hesitation, it wasn’t like Dean was at a _complete_ loss. He knew the basics of a hypnotic induction from all the other times he had been put under; but his knowledge of hypnotic inductions came from the perspective of the subject, not the hypnotist. It wasn’t like he really payed close attention to how Castiel framed his progression from induction to trance, and Castiel all but refused to give him directions on how to put himself in trance. ‘ _You’ve got all the tools, Dean, I know you can put it all together,’_ he had practically sing-songed after him, already translating his stupid goddamn book.

Fucker. Probably wasn’t even actually doing any work in there; just pretending to look busy.

_Dean. Hypnosis. Get a move on._

Okay, but… _how?_ Should he close his eyes or stare at something? The wall, a spiral, or should he hold out a pocket watch for himself? Did he even _have_ a pocket watch? Did he need to talk to himself to go under?

“You are getting sleepy~” Dean said jokingly to the empty room. “…or is it _I’m_ getting sleepy?”

That was just weird. No talking to himself like a crazy person.

Dean shook his head again and decided to answer his first question: Eyes open or closed? Dean had learned that he didn’t really have much of a preference for either option; both methods led to the same result, and both were fun in their own right. Eyes closed meant the induction was slower, with Castiel taking his time to describe exactly what his body was feeling. How each breath could be felt all the way down to his toes, how his skin would tingle, how he could sink down into the mattress or chair or couch while Castiel talked. Those inductions were incredibly relaxing, he had to admit. Probably closer to an actual guided meditation than hypnosis.

That being said, Dean could remember a couple times where Castiel would finish talking and start to take off his clothes before realizing Dean had just… straight up fallen asleep. It didn’t happen often, thankfully, but it was a reoccurring event.

 _That would not be ideal for tonight_ , Dean decided.

On the other hand, there were the eyes-open inductions. Castiel would have him stare at a variety of things—a spot on the wall, a spiral gif he found on the internet (a bit cliched, if he were to be honest), his eyes, his finger. Dean would stare at whatever his focus was and listen to Castiel as he talked him through how drowsy he would get, and kinds of things that they would do when he fell into trance, how the world would turn fuzzy at the edges and how his body couldn’t quite support its own weight. He’d close his eyes eventually, of course, when they got too heavy and fluttery to keep open. But it was usually easier for Dean to concentrate on Castiel’s words and what was expected of him when he wasn’t at risk of falling asleep. Not to mention how hot it was to see Castiel get all flushed and turned on as he sank into hypnosis…

He felt himself growing hazy just thinking about it. He blinked a few times to clear the cobwebs from his head, but then realized a second later that he had _wanted_ those cobwebs there. _Huh, maybe this won’t be as hard I thought it’d be._

Mind made up, Dean searched the wall in front of him for something to focus on. There were his weapons, a bunch of old dents that neither he nor Castiel and bothered to fix up, pictures of his family (ew, no, he didn’t want to stare at his family’s faces while he hypnotized himself and potentially got fucked into next week), a small mirror (even weirder, he didn’t want to stare at _himself_ ), before settling on the TV they had mounted to the wall a few months ago. It was a modestly large flat screen, obviously turned off at the moment, but what caught Dean’s attention was the tiny red LED at the bottom, near where the volume and channel buttons were. It was just big enough to catch his attention, and continually blinked on and off. A steady, continuous rhythm every time it turned on an off. On and off. On and off… on… and off…

The light haze had returned, barely pushing at the edges of Dean’s awareness. _That’s a good start._ He kept staring at the light as he tried to figure out where to go from there. Should he start a sort of hypnotic monologue? Try to talk himself down into trance? Keep staring and hope that he would eventually just get mentally exhausted enough and zone out?

This is why he sucked at meditation.

 _What would Castiel usually talk about?_ There was no specific script Castiel followed with inductions, it really just depended on how he was feeling that day. Sometimes he would have him visualize descending into trance—often via a staircase that took him deeper with each step. Other times he would start rambling about something (like bees, or a book was reading, or some ancient historical event he witnessed thousands of years ago) that quite frankly bored the ever-loving _shit_ out of Dean—by the time he was mind-numbingly bored and totally zoned out of the conversation Castiel would start slipping suggestions into his mind without him knowing at first (which was freaky as shit). Or when he was feeling like taking his time, Castiel would tell Dean how to relax every part of his body, one by one, before falling into trance.

Actually, Dean found he really enjoyed those inductions. Castiel would find clever ways to have him relax his body one muscle at a time. ‘ _Like stepping into a hot tub_ ,’ he said once—letting the warm water start to run up his toes and ankles. A tingly warmth that would slowly run up his shins and calves, bleeding the tension out of the muscles through his skin. Sometimes Dean would actually be able to feel the heat, feel how it would move upwards as his body sank into the water.

Damn, he really liked hot tubs—he and Sam hadn’t often stayed in motels with hot tubs growing up, so being able to sit in one was a rare treat. On nights spent digging up graves or fighting vampires or even just staking out in the car for _hours_ without moving, Dean could almost swan dive into one of those; lay up against the jets and feel the soreness and aches in his lower back practically dissolve. The water would lap up against his chest and loosen something deep within his gut, make him feel like he could actually _breathe_ for a minute. Those were the nights where he didn’t have to worry about anything, just leaning back and letting the (almost literal) weight of the world slough of his shoulders for a little while, let his arms hang loosely against the edge of the tub. Dean wouldn’t have to focus on anything more complicated than breathing—just letting the steam rising up flow through his lungs in a simple in and out. In and out… in and out…

The best hot tubs were the ones with seats low enough so the jets could hit his neck, too. Firm enough knead the muscles of his shoulders, but still a comfortable pressure as to not be irritating. Dean could lean back into the warm water and soak for hours, let the water loosen and remove the strain of the world like dirt from his body. A warm bath that left him loose and pliant, the jets buffeting his muscles in any direction they wished. The low hum of the water pump was also soothing to Dean—maybe it was because he was often half-conscious on those nights, but the thrum of the motor seemed to have a special ability turning his brain into putty. That low purr was similar to the Impala’s engine, in a way; just barely there on his periphery but enough to dull the sharp edges of the world. Dean could have spent whole nights in a hot tub, letting the world turn fuzzy and warm and soft. He could stare at the refracted light at the bottom of the tub, watch the patterns unfold and glitter in the pre-installed lights of the tub and the moon…

Dean blinked, realizing that the light he was staring at was not from the hot tub but from the TV on his bedroom wall. He realized that the hot tub he was sitting in wasn’t real, but an amalgamation of all the other ones he had experienced in his life. He wasn’t even in a hot tub in the first place and was, in fact, still half-laying on the pillows of his bed. Everything around him felt slow and murky, like he had just woken up but wasn’t fully ready to open his eyes and leave sleep behind. Everything was soft and warm and quiet…

_Oh…_

Dean almost lurched himself completely awake at his realization—he had fallen into a light trance. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost never realized he was following on of Castiel’s inductions all by himself. Dean, with his slow, gummed-up brain, couldn’t remember how long he had been sitting on the bed and staring at the TV—it could have been a few minutes, it could have been half an hour, he couldn’t tell. And he was pleasantly surprised to find that he really didn’t care how much time had passed. He felt relaxed, a bit sleepy, and he felt like he could stay here for hours if he hadn’t done so already.

There was a distant part of him that realized how cool it was that their little “experiment” had actually worked; Dean had quite literally just hypnotized himself. It was a light trance, sure, but he was most definitely hypnotized. If he were in better control of his mental facilities at the moment, he no doubt would have gotten a little over-excited and probably would have broken the space he was in, and wouldn’t that have just been frustrating? But Dean was feeling chilled out, enjoying the state he was in. So instead of patting himself on the back for a job-well-done, he instead took a deep breath, and let it out. His chest felt heavy—almost like it could cave in—but it felt good. Like he could just sit and drift and keep on breathing in and out… in and out… in… and out…

Dean heard the bedroom door click shut somewhere to his left. He could barely bring himself to move, his entire body feeling incredibly heavy as he let out another deep breath. He knew his eyes were open but he wasn’t entirely sure what he was staring at anymore, whether it was the wall or the TV or anything else. He could feel his eyelids close and drag themselves open unevenly and sluggishly. Dean could barely find the will to close his jaw, it having gone lax a long time ago.

He could hear footsteps approaching the bed. He felt the mattress dip. He couldn’t bring himself to move. Another deep sigh shuddered out of him.

“Dean, can you look at me?”

He swayed at Castiel’s voice. With the effort of an entire army Dean focused his eyes on his partner’s face. It was fuzzy around the edges, but he could see that Castiel had taken off his trench coat and left it folded at the foot of the bed. He could make out the soft look in his eyes, his pleased smile. Dean couldn’t help but give him a dopey grin of his own. “…hi…” he hummed.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said softly. His face seemed to glow with fondness. Dean kept smiling, because he knew that fondness was because of him. Castiel traced his fingers on the back of Dean’s hand teasingly. His eyes rolled at the sensation.

“I think I managed,” Dean murmured. He felt his eyes cross and unfocus briefly before resettling on Castiel’s face. “I’m feeling…” he swallowed. “…feeling pretty trancey right now…”

“You do look trancey,” Castiel agreed. “You look drowsy, and dreamy, and sleepy.” His voice had taken on the soft tones that he reserved for inductions, something that Dean had been waiting for all night. “And so incredibly relaxed.”

Dean nodded, feeling the words starting to sink into his mind. “Yeah…”

“And as you let those feelings flow through your body, I want you to just take a nice deep breath for me… and hold… and let it all out.” Dean’s eyes definitely fluttered this time. He could feel his body start to keel over from sitting up for so long. “Good, that’s it, Dean. So hard to keep yourself sitting up when all you want to do is slip into a nice deep trance, huh?”

“Yeah…” Dean said. His head dipped towards his chest and he started to fold towards his lap.

But Castiel had other ideas; he tapped his fingers insistently on Dean’s hand. “But you have to stay sitting up for me, Dean. You can just barely find the strength in your heavy, heavy muscles to sit up.”

Dean absolutely did _not_ whimper at that suggestion, despite how tired and relaxed he was. Instead he dragged his body back up like Castiel told him to, swaying a bit with the effort to keep his muscles simultaneously tensed and relaxed. He could barely find the willpower to turn his face towards his partner and look at him.

It was worth it, though, to see the soft smile Castiel still had for him. “Good boy, Dean,” he whispered, running a thumb over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “So good for me. Do you think you can do one more thing for me, good boy? Just this last thing.”

It took a few seconds for Dean to process that Castiel was asking him a question directly. “…yes…”

He rubbed his thumb over Dean’s knuckles again. “Good boy, Dean.” He tapped the back of his hand. “I want you to start counting down for me, Dean, backwards from one hundred, and every time you say a number you can find yourself saying, ‘deeper and deeper.’ And each time you say a number, and each time you say, ‘deeper and deeper,’ you’ll find that every time you’ll go ten times deeper, a hundred times deeper, a thousand times deeper into trance…”

Dean nodded along to Castiel’s words. “Deeper and deeper…” he echoed.

Castiel beamed. “And after a while, if you find that you’re so deep and relaxed that you simply can’t remember what number comes next, that’s okay too. Because when you get to that point, when you simply are too deep and sleepy and relaxed to remember what number you are on… then and only then will you go ahead and slip into a deep sleep for me. Do you think you can do that, Dean? Can you count down into a nice, deep sleep for me?”

Dean let out a full body shudder. At this point he didn’t care if this would turn erotic or if Castiel was just going to talk him through hypnosis. It all felt so good, Dean would honestly be happy with either outcome. “…yes…”

“Good… so good, Dean.” Castiel leaned forward and pressed soft lips to Dean’s temple. “Start counting for me, Dean…”

Dean’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “One hundred… deeper and deeper…”

 _Oh, wow…_ Dean felt his mind almost lurch with how quickly it sank into the feeling of hypnosis. Counting down into trance wasn’t new—in fact, it seemed to be one of Castiel’s favorite methods of induction—but it was usually Castiel who was counting for him, telling him exactly what he was feeling with each number down. Apparently he was rather serious about Dean putting himself into trance this time; Very rarely did he make Dean count _himself_ down. But somehow it made the trance feel even more inescapable, even more inevitable and heavy because Dean _knew_ that he simply didn’t have the resistance left to stop himself. Castiel had made a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts for him, because every time he sank down he found himself wanting to resist even less, and the less he resisted the deeper down he went.

Speaking of: “Ninety-nine… deeper and deeper.”

“So good, Dean. Feeling eyes get heavier with each number, feeling your body sinking into the fuzzy haze of hypnosis.”

Dean gave what had to be the slowest blink in the history of the world. “Ninety-eight… deeper and deeper…” He swayed heavily this time, having to forcefully jerk himself upright so he didn’t fall towards the floor. He knew Castiel would have caught him if he did fall, but Castiel had told him he had just enough strength to stay upright, and he wanted to prove that. “Nin… ninety-seven… deeper and deeper…”

“Deeper and deeper,” Castiel echoed. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders, seemingly smoothing what little tension remained in his muscles out and away. “That’s right. A hundred times deeper.”

Dean’s eyes started to roll back, but he tried his best to keep them focused on Castiel’s face. He liked seeing the soft, fond look on his face. How it glowed with affection when Dean followed his commands. He gave another smile of his own, although it immediately dropped as he sank a little further down into his trance. “Ninety-seve… ninety-six…” He let out a deep breath at his own correction, already feeling the numbers slipping from his mind like sand. “…deeper… and deeper….”

“Harder and harder to remember those numbers… harder and harder to remember what comes next.”

“Ninety-five…” he could barely make his lips form the words. “…deeperrrr… and deeper…” This time Dean would admit that he did whimper, but only because there was no other way to describe the sound that came out of his mouth. His eyes had closed sometime between the last two numbers, without him knowing exactly when. It didn’t matter. Not when he was feeling this floaty and hazy and warm. “Ninety-four… deeper…”

Castiel started to rock Dean gently side to side, letting out a pleased hum. “It’s almost too hard, now. So hard to remember what number you’re on and what comes next… so hard to remember when each one just puts you further and further into a nice deep sleep.”

Dean’s neck went loose and wobbly as Castiel rocked him. He eventually settled on letting his head thump down on Castiel’s shoulder, letting out yet another deep, relaxed breath. “N… ni… ninety…” He felt the heavily gummed up gears of his brain working against him, telling him to simply give up and sink. But he wanted to try. “ninety… one…?”

A warm chuckle. “Try again, Dean.”

“ninety… nine…” He could do this. “nine… eight… sev’n…” He was confused. Was he counting down from one hundred or ten? Maybe it wasn’t important, because regardless of the number all that mattered was going “…deeper ‘n deep…” The number he was on didn’t matter, because the one thing that stayed the same was his mind going “…deeper ‘n deeper…” and his body sinking “…deeper…” into trance. Nice and “…deep…”

“So hard to think, Dean. You can just let go now, let yourself sink all the way into a nice, deep, relaxing sleep.” A hand fell over his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, fingers brushing against his slack lips. “Deep sleep now, Dean.”

Dean loved when Castiel brushed his hand over his face. He felt his eyes roll even further back into his head until the whites were showing before fluttering back closed. A deep, relieved moan came from his chest. He felt himself lean totally on Castiel’s shoulder, hands awkward and limp where they were laid out on his lap. God, it felt like his whole _soul_ had had the strings cut and he just couldn’t bother to hold himself up. Like his brains were just dribbling out of his ears and he couldn’t even muster up the energy to care. He felt warm and heavy and weak and so, _so_ deep. He had almost never been taken this deep this early on in a trance—something about tonight had just taken his resistance and willpower and had utterly crushed it, leaving nothing but a warm, sleepy obedience in its wake. Dean would do almost anything in the world to stay right in this moment for the rest of his life. Nothing could disturb him; it was the most incredible feeling in the entire universe.

He realized that Castiel had been talking to him this whole time, but he couldn’t remember a single word he said. But that was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was _perfect_. Dean tuned back in to feel Castiel’s soft, rumbling voice wash over him. “…floating in a hot spring. All that warm water lapping over your muscles letting you drift. All that warm, wonderful steam filling your lungs with each breath. Filling your whole body with warmth and relaxation. Feeling all of your muscles, all of your bones just turning loose and lax. Feeling how nice it is to listen to my voice, feel your body rocking back… and forth… back… and forth… and just sinking into that trance like nothing else matters at all… because it doesn’t, Dean. Nothing matters right now except for this feeling of bliss and relaxation. This deep, warm feeling of pure sleep. This heavy, quiet feeling of hypnosis…”

Castiel often did this, when given the chance. Castiel had once admitted that he liked making up the deepeners—he liked rambling on and on and telling Dean exactly what he should be feeling, how it felt to sink into trance. Castiel said he liked watching how he reacted to the deepeners, how his face would shift and twitch depending on how deep and relaxed he was. And honestly, Dean liked it too. He was so good at going into trance now that he hardly ever needed the detailed deepeners like he did when they were first starting hypnosis. But he loved hearing Castiel talk, loved hearing how his voice would pitch and shift as he talked Dean into a deeper trance. He loved feeling Castiel’s voice rumble through his chest and letting it take him down just as much as the words did. Dean _loved_ when Castiel would start babbling softly in his ear about what to feel, what to see, how much deeper it took him…

And Castiel would get _really_ into the deepeners. Sometimes the both of them would entirely forget about the erotic and sexy side of trance and just explore how deep Dean could go under hypnosis. Castiel could literally go on for hours, talking his partner through what could only be called full experiences. Dean remembered one in particular, where Castiel talked Dean through an extremely detailed hike down a mountain trail, describing every last sight he saw and explaining how every step down the path deepened his state of trance. It was probably the most profound state of hypnosis he had ever experienced. To this day, Dean couldn’t fully explain what he had seen or felt during that session—he could only give a silly grin and start spouting adjectives whenever Castiel asked about it.

Tonight’s trance was giving that one a run for its money; At the very least, it made it into the Top Five.

He could feel Castiel position him upright, although he made no move to support himself. Castiel hadn’t ordered it and Dean couldn’t find the energy to do it himself. Castiel kept whispering in his ear, “…and every breath just takes you even deeper… deeper… deeper and deeper down… Every time you breathe in you can feel peace and calm filling your lungs, pumping through your blood like oxygen. And every time you breathe out you let go of a little more tension, a little more resistance, feeling so vacant and placid and sluggish… nothing can disturb you, and even my voice just smooths over your mind and lets you sink deeper down…”

Dean shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t resist it. Didn’t want to.

Castiel’s hand brushed over his forehead, cupping his face and stroking a thumb over his cheek. Dean’s face relaxed at the contact. “And how does it feel, Dean?”

“so good…” Dean felt himself shiver again, leaning further into Castiel’s palm to seek the contact. God, he felt “…so good…”

“That’s right, Dean. It feels so good to sink like this. Nice and deep and warm.” Another stroke on his cheek. “Can you tell me what happens when you feel this good?”

“I…” Dean had to swallow before he could continue. “I fall…”

“That’s right. And what else?”

“I drift…”

“You drift.”

“I go deeper…”

“You go deeper.”

“Deeper down…”

“That’s right, Dean.”

“…deeper down…” He felt his eyes flutter when he realized he was repeating himself. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, especially when it was so difficult to get his words together. His jaw and lips felt almost pleasantly numb with how relaxed they were; his voice had gained a loose, lazy quality as he tried to answer Castiel’s questions. “…deeper and deeper…”

He Castiel run his fingers through his hair, leaving his hand where Dean’s neck met his shoulder. His hand felt so warm. “So good for me, Dean,” he murmured. “So calm, so quiet, so wonderfully heavy and lazy as you go deeper down.”

Dean felt his lips try to say ‘ _deeper and deeper’_ one more time, but he had simply lost the strength in his body to do so. All he could muster was a soft grunt from his throat. He felt himself lean heavily into Castiel’s hands, unable to resist. The whole world had gained a soft, muted fuzz around him; he could feel a nice tingling feeling spreading through his body from his chest to his fingertips, something he felt only when he was falling asleep at night. He felt almost completely detached from himself, to the point where he wasn’t sure where his body ended and where the bed began. The only thing he had any full awareness of was the hands on his face and neck, barely anchoring him to the real world and Castiel’s words.

Speaking of, he tuned back to the words Castiel was whispering. “You just keep sinking into the warm, quiet dark of your mind. My voice guides you deeper and deeper down as you feel everything just fall, fall, fall away into nothing. You’re floating in a sea of pure bliss and it feels so good.” Another warm stroke on his cheek. “Nothing can bother you here—no matter how stressful the real world is you know you can always melt down into this state of trance and let it all just drift away. You can just listen to my voice and let it bring you back into this wonderful, deep state of hypnosis. Isn’t that right, Dean?”

“…yeah…” was all Dean could say. Castiel could say anything when Dean was like this and would believe him 100 percent. He could tell him that they were on the planet Venus, he could say that the sun was purple, or that onions tasted like snowfall… such abstract concepts and simple impossibilities and Dean would never even think to doubt Castiel. Especially when he made him feel this good. Especially when he felt this drowsy and soft and quiet… He could feel a trickle of drool fall from his lips, simply unable to do anything to stop it.

The hand moved from his cheek to his forehead, slowly guiding Dean’s head forward to rest in the crook of Castiel’s neck. He felt his already loose body go even more slack he was positioned to lean all of his weight on Castiel, chest to chest and legs tangled together. One of his hand was lifted, shaken, and then gently dropped back to the bed. He felt his mind lurch at the sensation, a deep sigh leaving his body as he sank a bit deeper.

A low whimper escaped Dean’s throat.

“Good boy,” Castiel whispered. He lapsed into a moment of silence, Dean feeling him run his hands along his back and listen to his relaxed breaths. “I want you to tell me what you’re feeling now, Dean.”

It was something Castiel would say when he was done with the deepeners, and he _always_ made a point to ask it during these sessions. It was a check-in to make sure Dean was feeling comfortable, or if something needed to be addressed before continuing. But was safety thing more than anything, ensuring that Dean was still comfortable with what they were doing in a session and where they might go next. He could tell Castiel if he wanted to stay in trance or be woken up, what he wanted Castiel to talk about; whether he wanted to shift focus from this lazy, drifting trance to what could end up being _hot_ sex. Castiel never forced Dean to do something he didn’t want to do, especially with how pliable and agreeable he could get when hypnotized, hence the check-in. It was the same way that a Dom would ask for a safe word before they started playing ( _did hypnosis count as BDSM?_ That was something Dean made a note revisit later when he was neither physically nor mentally melting into a puddle of bliss).

It took a few moments for Dean to gather his thoughts. “…good…” he finally settled on. He knew this was important, so he tried to pull his brain back together into something Castiel could actually work with. “…c’mfortable…” Nailed it.

Castiel continued to run his fingers along the muscles of Dean’s back. “Good, Dean, thank you for telling me.” Another pause, just as contented as the last. “What do you want to do now?”

There were two options here, both of them tempting in their own right. But Dean had stripped naked for a reason.

He let out a breathy pant and shifted his head where it was resting on Castiel’s neck. He lazily mouthed at the line of his jaw. “…feelin’ a little horny…” he said in a low voice; still drowsy and slurred, but with an unmistakable edge of heat to it.

Castiel let out a groan and didn’t waste any time. His soothing touches down Dean’s back turned into a light raking of fingernails across his skin. “I’m glad to hear that, Dean,” he growled.

Dean was also glad. He gasped and lazily bucked his hips against Castiel’s leg, where it was positioned between his own. This deep in trance Dean really didn’t have a lot of coordination with his body, sometimes barely able to even gather enough energy to make a fist. Often, he just let Castiel maneuver his body however he wished, either with his hands or with a soft-spoken command. Tonight, however, Dean was worked up enough to roll his hips clumsily and press open-mouthed kisses against Castiel’s neck. He let out a quiet moan. “Cas…”

Castiel didn’t answer him immediately. Instead he occupied himself by nibbling at Dean’s earlobe and continuing to run his hands across Dean’s body, moving from his back to his sides. They rubbed in alternating directions, one up towards his shoulder and the other down towards his right hip. He ran his thumb in a circle on his waist, both soothing and teasing, and left it there. “What does my touch do to you, Dean?”

Dean shuddered and groaned. “Pleasure,” he choked. “…gives me pleasure…”

“That’s right, Dean,” he praised, as his thumb rubbed another circle into his skin. Dean could feel the whirl of heat that trailed after his touch, flaring hot for a moment before traveling down from his waist and pooling low in his belly. “And what happens when you feel pleasure?”

A whimper, “…deeper and deeper…”

“Good boy, Dean. And the deeper you go?”

“The more…” He swallowed thickly. “…the more pleasure I feel.”

Another sweep of Castiel’s thumb. “So good for me, Dean,” he said. He ran his hands back up and down Dean’s sides again. Twin blazes of arousal erupted from the points of contact, teasing at Dean’s nerve endings before rolling down to join the first spark of heat in Dean’s belly.

Dean keened and shook against Castiel’s body, panting wetly at his neck. They had just barely started the fun stuff and he already felt like he was being flooded with pleasure. Castiel’s suggestion that his touch gave him pleasure had long ago stopped feeling like a distant concept that revved up Dean’s engine. Now it felt like a real, physical sensation; Liquid heat injected straight into his veins, flowing across his body and soaking his brain like no drug ever could. A light touch of his fingers could send a pleasant hum through Dean’s limbs all the way down to his fingertips. Other times he felt like he could literally vibrate out of his own skin because of Castiel’s hands, the mere idea that his partner was touching him sending a low buzz to all the best parts of his brain. He couldn’t be sure that Castiel wasn’t using his Grace to make the sensations feel real, but honestly Dean didn’t care if he was. “Cas…”

Castiel was already ahead of him, like always. The hand on his waist dipped lower down his back, down his hip, over the swell of his ass. Dean felt a soft, teasing squeeze of the muscle (he let out a sleepy huff at that, he could almost never resist coping a feel) before the hand slipped further down and between their bodies. His knuckles ran along the dip between his hip and the base of his groin, gentle and teasing. Dean bit his lip and rut his hips on Castiel’s thigh again. He was half hard already and sinking deeper into hypnosis because of it, which only served to turn him on more. Fuck, he loved those feedback loops.

“What would you for like me to do, Dean?”

Dean’s thoughts—saturated with all those feel-good chemicals Sam could no doubt name without looking them up ( _do NOT think of your brother while getting you’re rocks off. Focus, Winchester_ )—ground to a stuttering halt for a moment. His eyes fluttered as the sheer flood of arousal basically steamrolled over his body and sent him down several hundred times deeper.

Oh yeah, this was a close contender with the mountain trail trance for sure.

He let out a short moan into Castiel’s ear, trembling with the force of it. “…touch…”

Castiel circled his thumb over his skin. “Touch what? You have to be specific.”

The _motherfucker._ Even in his practically melted brain Dean knew that this was nothing short of cruel. He was going to torture Castiel when he woke up later, everything was _right_ _there_. “…my dick…” he mumbled.

“That’s not how you ask for something, Dean,” he said. Like an _asshole._ “Ask politely.”

Forget torture—Dean was just going to straight up kill him. “…please touch my dick…”

“Good boy,” Castiel whispered. His hand moved that last bit of distance and finally ( _finally_ ) touched him where he wanted him to.

Dean’s brain was already primed to interpret whatever contact Castiel had with his body as basically concentrated sex—it was a suggestion they had been working on pretty much as soon as they realized how much they liked hypnosis. An accidental brush against his body could get him interested. Deliberate touches would cause heat to gather in his belly like no one could in the past.

Stroking him? Holy fucking _shit._

Dean’s moan choked off into a sudden gasp, his hands flying up to grab at Castiel’s shoulders despite how loose his muscles had been only seconds before. He ground his hips into his partner’s hand as hard as he could and shook with both the effort and sensation. “Ohfuck…!” he cried. His eyes screwed even more tightly closed.

Castiel wasn’t finished. His other hand, still resting near his shoulder, drifted back down Dean’s now-heaving sides. He ran his fingers almost reverently across his chest. “Anywhere else you can think of?” he teased.

Dean didn’t answer at first. Couldn’t answer. He was busy trying to move his body in all the ways he wanted to, but the sleepy lassitude of the trance relaxed him enough that he was barely able to do more than twitch. It had taken practically all his remaining strength to keep clutching at Castiel’s shoulders, and his brain power was less focused on properly responding to the question and more towards how it all felt so fucking _good_. “Cas, oh, god… fuck…!”

He felt Castiel’s chuckle from where his head was resting against his throat. “I can make it feel even better,” he said. “Would you like that, Dean?”

“C-Cas, please…!” Dean could feel his eyes rolling dizzily underneath the lids. It was too much and not enough, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was pleading for.

Castiel shifted his hips. Dean could feel the hard line that was his cock press against his thigh—could feel the heat through his dress pants. “I think I would like that for myself,” he growled. The hand on his chest circled a nipple.

Dean felt himself get catapulted from desperate to utterly wrecked in a single heartbeat. He fought for control over his breathing, determined _not_ to pass out this late in the game despite the fact that Castiel clearly just liked tormenting Dean at every opportunity. He bucked and twitched in his partner’s grip, frantically chasing each and every sensation that he was being offered. He could feel Castiel responding much in the same, moving in small, purposeful ruts at Dean’s thigh.

It was incredible. It was indescribable. No words could do this feeling any sort of justice.

“And how does it feel, Dean?” Castiel asked, because he had a sixth-sense for when to ask that question—when it was practically impossible for Dean to answer.

He couldn’t stop the moan from escaping his throat, long and high and desperate. “So good. So good. So good…”

“It feels so good, Dean, that’s right.” Castiel nibbled just below his jaw, right on the spot that made Dean want to thrash and squirm in ecstasy. “And it continues to feel even better with each passing moment. With every touch on your body. With every moan that falls from your lips.”

In response Dean let out another loud moan, letting his head fall on Castiel’s shoulder and nuzzling against it like a big cat. A big, hypnotized, horny-as-all-hell cat. His fingers clutched at Castiel’s sleeves as he moaned again, feeling it taper off into a gasping sob at he felt his arousal start to spike the longer he cried. His hips bucked upwards at Castiel continued to stroke. And stoke. And stroke. “Ah, ah, ah… ah… oh go—Cas… hnn…”

Castiel was still talking. “What do you do when you feel pleasure?”

“Ohmy… deeper and deeper…” he gasped.

“And the deeper you go?”

“oh god, the more pleasure I feel…!”

“And the more pleasure you feel?”

“the deeper I go… so good, so good…” Dean had practically turned it into a mantra at this point, biting his lip as Castiel swiped a thumb over his nipple. “s-soo… so good…!” He was openly panting now, mouth opened in the shape of an _O_ as he shuddered and bucked and clutched while Castiel played with him. “…god, fuck, Cas, please…”

“So good for me, Dean. All of your nerves feel nothing but how much pleasure you’re feeling. You can’t move, you can’t think, not when your brain is swamped with all this pleasure. All this arousal.” Castiel rasped his tongue along Dean’s jawline, leaving a streak of wet heat that traveled straight down to his dick. “Nothing matters except for what we’re building towards. Nothing matters except for the way I’m making you feel, and how it feels even better, even hotter when you’re in this deep trance.”

“Cas, please…” Dean turned and buried his nose in Castiel’s collarbone, inhaling his scent and exhaling his own hot, wet breath with each grunt and moan. “oh my f… fucking god, so good… so good… so, oh, so good… so guuhh!”

Castiel pinched the nipple he was playing with, and Dean in turn couldn’t help but to sink his teeth into the collarbone he was mouthing at. He felt Castiel’s hips buck into his leg as he groaned. “Oh, Dean… Feels so good right now. All of it, every last moment. You look so beautiful like this—so relaxed and vacant and deep.” Castiel’s lips pressed on Dean’s temple in a loose approximation of a chaste kiss. “Your lips look so good… wanna taste them, wanna hear those moans come out of your gorgeous mouth… wanna hear you scream when you come…”

Dean wanted that too. He clutched harder at Castiel’s shoulders and rolled his hips into Castiel’s hand with as much strength as he could muster. He trembled against Castiel and let out a needy moan, biting his lip to cut it off into a groan deep in his chest. He wanted so badly to open his eyes, but he just felt himself sink all the farther down into hypnosis, the pleasure and relaxation creating the perfect feedback loop that kept him from doing much more than biting his lip and grunting, grinding his hips again into Castiel’s grip. He pressed his forehead harder into Castiel’s shoulder. “Mm… mm… muhhh… haa… mmmohhhfuck, Cas…” He was slurring at this point, but it didn’t matter. Castiel told him nothing mattered except for how it all felt, and he believed him.

“And how does it feel, Dean?” Castiel growled.

Dean wailed out in rapture. “fffuuuhhh! So fuuhhcking good! God, fuck, ngh, mmm, ah…” He tilted his head up towards Castiel’s face and let out another loud moan. “Gonna, gonna, oh… oh god, gonna c-come… so good, please Cas, fuck, mm… oh fu…!” He can’t stop babbling. “please, p-please, please let me come oh fuck…”

Castiel started to stroke faster, grinding his hips hard into Dean’s leg. He captured his lips in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Dean could barely respond, too busy moaning and bucking and falling backwards into hypnosis and headfirst into his climax. Castiel ran his thumb over Dean’s cockhead at the top of each stroke, his movements growing desperate. He was close, perhaps just behind Dean. “So good for me, Dean. So good for me, my good boy, you can come. Come for me Dean, come, come, come…”

“C-Cas… Cas, fuck, god… please, Cas… Cas…! Cas!”

“Come for me, Dean,” he ordered.

Dean’s moan turned into a howl of pure bliss as he felt himself tip over into orgasm. He clutched desperately at Castiel’s shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck as he felt his climax start at the very tip of his cock and spread through the entirety of his body; shooting up to his scalp, a burst of fireworks from the impact in his skull as it showered down his neck, his chest, tingling down to his fingers and melting into the tips of his toes. He bore down hard into Castiel’s hand, feeling his dick throb and twitch, once, twice, three times as he came _hard._ His legs shook from the effort of holding himself up on his knees. Dean’s howl turned into a scream and then a gasping sob. He felt his whole body start to tremble as Castiel kept _stroking_ , working him through one of the most intense orgasms of his life. It didn’t stop, it didn’t slow down, it just kept _going_.

“S-so good, Dean, so good,” Castiel growled in his ear, mouthing at the shell and panting hard. “Feel how good it feels to sink into this pleasure for me, how it feels to let this hypnotic bliss pull you down into ecstasy. So good for me, Dean, so good!” Castiel nibbled on his earlobe and ground his cock against Dean. “Just keep coming, keep coming, keep coming, coming, come, come, oh, just keep coming Dean oh, oh, oh fuck oh my, Dean!” Castiel let out a high whine and froze completely. His cock twitched against Dean’s thigh as he came in his jeans. Castiel groaned into Dean’s temple as he fell into his own orgasm. “Ohhhhhh fuck…!”

It felt like the world was dangling on a string as they both kept coming. There was no way something could feel this good, this incredible. Dean writhed against Castiel and Castiel rolled against Dean and they held each other as they came. Open-mouthed moans and curses and cries coming from both of them to the point where Dean literally could not figure out where his release ended and Castiel’s started. It was incredible, it was terrible, it was…

“So good for me, my good boy, so good…” Castiel gasped. He rested his chin on top of Dean’s head. “You can let it go, Dean… let it all fade into a warm glow and leave you feeling so, so good…”

Dean let out a soft sob and clung to Castiel’s body. His climax was fading into the afterglow and then back into deep hypnosis after that, bathing his muscles in warmth as he started to sag against Castiel. He felt dizzy with sensation, almost unable to process it all. His legs felt stiff and sore, chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. He could already feel his muscles relaxing back down into his deep, quiet trance, but he kept twitching with the aftershocks. He was oversensitive and wrung out. It was amazing, in its own right. But now his body felt hypersensitive and overstimulated, and his mind was still gummed up and foggy with both endorphins and trance.

And suddenly it was all too much, he had no way to process it without coming out of trance, but he didn’t want to leave the soft, muted haze he sunk into. It was too much, too fucking much to handle and it wouldn’t stop, the rushing of his body and the sluggishness of his mind. He could feel himself starting to come out of trance but he didn’t _want_ that yet but there was no way he could handle all the sensation his body without coming out and suddenly everything just felt _worse_ and he let out another weak sob at it all _make it stop_ —

Dean flinched at the soft thumb stroking across his cheekbone. Dean felt his head rise and fall and realized he was lying down on top of Castiel’s chest. He didn’t remember being laid down, but he could feel Castiel gently stroking a hand through the short hairs on the nape of his neck. His voice rumbled through his chest and into Dean’s cheek as he murmured quiet, soothing words into his ears. “…and you can just let it out, Dean… let those emotions and sensations flow naturally through your body. Just letting them pass through you at their own pace and then fading away into peace. Just let it out, Dean, baby, let it go…”

Dean felt the tears trickling down his face as he shuddered, a soft whimper leaving his chest as he buried his face into Castiel’s brick-wall of a chest and tried to breathe. He let himself feel the overpowering wave of sadness and gave in to it. His shoulders shook with his sobs as he listened to Castiel’s voice and let the tones wash over his body. The larger man’s hand kept stroking gently in his hair, a soothing gesture that served to ground his body to the simple motion. Castiel kept murmuring quiet praise and soothing nothings to Dean. He let the tears soak into his shirt as Dean sniffled and wept quietly against him.

It didn’t take long for Dean to finally stop crying, letting out one last deep, shuddering sigh. His fingers, which were curled and under Castiel’s shoulders finally relaxed and released. His breaths still hitched once in a while, but they were far and few between at this point. It had been a minor drop, thankfully, but he still felt a bit hollowed out even as he felt like he was resettling in his skin. He and Castiel would have to keep an eye out to make sure it wouldn’t get any worse than that, but for time being he melted back down into the quiet, slow state of being that held his mind in a soft embrace.

Dean felt Castiel burrow his nose into his hair and let out a deep sigh of his own. “Feeling better now, Dean?”

Dean let out a low hum and moved his head in a small nod. He felt utterly comfortable here, curled on Castiel’s chest as he drifted. Wrung out and drained, but so, _so_ comfortable. So good…

Castiel chuffed. “Good boy, Dean,” he whispered. “Do you want me to bring you back up?”

“Nuh,” Dean grunted. No way he was leaving this trance by choice—he would ride it out until he woke up naturally in the morning. “…deeper n’ deeper…” he heard himself say softly.

“That’s right, Dean. Deeper and deeper.” Castiel scraped his nails through his hair. He felt his eyes flutter lightly at the sensation. God, everything Castiel did felt amazing, he made Dean feel so _good._ “I’m going to get up for a moment, Dean. Just long enough to get out of these clothes and clean up. You can stay here and keep falling, sinking, drifting until I come back. Is that okay, good boy?”

Not really, but what little higher-thinking Dean had left in his brain told him that it was for the best to agree. Castiel hated waking up in dirty clothes (both inside and out), and Dean didn’t like the feeling of dry come between their bodies. It was, unfortunately, a necessary evil. “…okay…” he finally echoed.

Castiel rewarded him with another scrape of his nails through his hair. “So good for me, Dean… always so good for me.” Dean felt his body be gently pushed off of Castiel’s chest and positioned onto the mattress. He sank into the sheets and the pillow below his head, letting himself drop further into his trance. Castiel’s ran his hand across Dean’s forehead and rested it on his cheek. “Only a moment, Dean,” he promised, and then he was gone.

True to his word, Castiel was back before Dean could really start to miss him. A warm washcloth was gently run along his stomach and legs, cleaning away the mess the both of them had made and soothing some of the ache in his muscles. He felt a water bottle press against his lips and was quietly prompted to drink—it was cool and lovely in his throat as he sipped before it was placed on what sounded like the bedside table behind Castiel. The blanket Dean was laying on was pulled out from under him and tucked around his shoulders.

He felt Castiel lay back down in the bed (as naked as he was, thank the _lord_ ) and settle beside him, running soft fingers through the hair on his forehead. “Deeper and deeper, Dean.”

Dean let out a low, needy whine, hands reaching for Castiel. If he felt sleepy before, this must be what true _exhaustion_ felt like. He was barely holding on to awareness, his muscles too warm and loose to do more than twitch in the general direction he wanted them to go. Dean couldn’t even be sure that he was still actually awake or halfway occupying a dream.

Castiel let out a low huff and gathered Dean to his chest. Dean felt his head get tucked under Castiel’s chin, so his nose was brushing against the larger man’s collarbone. He wormed his leg between Dean’s and hooked an ankle around the other’s. Warm, soft hands ran soothingly up and down his arms. “You did so good for me, Dean, you did incredible. So, so good. Always so good for me...” He continued to babble praise into Dean’s hair, stopping only to press gentle lips to his head before picking up again.

Dean hummed in response. With monumental effort, he uncurled his fingers and pressed them against Castiel’s chest. He nuzzled closer and relaxed into his arms, finally ready to drift into sleep. Real sleep, this time. “…so good, Cas…”

He felt arms tighten around him, followed by a warm chuckle. “I love you,” he whispered, plain and simple, “so, so much, Dean.” Castiel pressed his lips against his forehead again, murmuring quietly against his skin. “Go to sleep now, Dean. Sleep now…”

And for one last time—at least for tonight—Dean allowed himself to melt back into the warm, quiet darkness, surrounded only by Cas’ arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't kidding when I said I have no clue how actual sex works. All my knowledge comes from fanfiction, and whatever the hell my school's sex ed. classes were willing to tell us.
> 
> And to the 2-4 friends in my real life who know that I wrote this story: Y'all didn't think I would actually post it, didja? Don't ever doubt my ability to single-handedly ruin any sort of faith and/or friendship I have in my life, all it takes is one bad fanfiction.
> 
> Thank you for reading--go find something better to occupy your time with.
> 
> \--Athena Muldrow


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